Weeping Willow
by mricj
Summary: And when Claire doesn't come home, he waits.


After hours of pain and suffering, Jenny is surprised she isn't deaf from her brother's piercing screams - it can only be a miracle, really. As soon as she's done tending his leg, the first thing she notices is how there is blood all over the place - the sheets, the floor and on the men holding Jamie down, but mainly on her clothes and arms. It makes her mouth taste funny and the air smell like copper, almost as if death itself is wondering whether or not it's worth the trouble of paying them a visit, almost as if it's calling for Jamie.

And it _would_ have, in case Jenny Murray weren't too bloody stubborn for her own good - in case the Fraser blood, and Fraser blood only, didn't run through her veins.

She prays silently as she finishes bandaging Jamie's thigh, hoping he makes through the night - he still has a long way to go until he's back on his feet again and until then, it's all Jenny can ask for. Done with the task at hand, she drifts away from the bed where her brother lies; a job well done, that's what it is. The thought of Claire briefly crosses Jenny's mind and her lips curve slightly - and in what it feels like a heartbeat, it's gone.

 _Claire… May God rest her soul…_

Jenny doesn't remember the last time she looked at Jamie - not properly, anyways. Since his arrival, her gaze would always find its way to the frightful and deep wound left by a hopeless battle, pus and inflammation creeping up on her wee brother, slowly trying to find a way to take Jamie from her. But the minute Jenny does, great part of her regrets the decision - suddenly, there's grief and a consuming pain taking over her soul, almost tearing her whole being apart.

Softly, Jenny runs her hand through his hair and he doesn't move an inch. Doesn't moan, doesn't briefly opens his eyes to smile up at her, and as Jenny carefully watches the peaceful look on his face, she realizes Jamie has passed out from the pain probably not too long ago. Lying there, Jamie looks like anything but the warrior he once was, the warrior Jenny's used to - much the contrary. Ribs showing, he looks small, too thin for her liking. His skin, usually tanned from spending too much time with the horses, is pale to match the way his breathing is shallow. The sight of life slowly leaving her wee brother's body is more tiring than Jenny cares to admit, more tiring than she ever lets on - it makes her heart ache and head spin in a way she never thought it was possible, in a way she never wants to experience again.

Suddenly, the room feels cramped, claustrophobic, even. All Jenny knows is that she needs to leave - needs _space_. There are too many people watching Jamie, watching _her_ as emotions she can't quite control run wild across her face. Judging by the looks of it, they pity not only Jamie, but her as well, and she doesn't need that from anyone, especially not the tenants.

As soon as she steps outside, she notices the sun is setting down - and as much as it insults her, Jenny can't help herself but admit it's one of the most beautiful sunsets she has ever seen. Winters in Scotland, especially in Lallybroch, are long and brutal and it's incredibly easy to forget that there's life outside those stone walls. Tears threaten to fall and Jenny swallows the lump in her throat. Sighing, she wipes her forehead - blood and sweat mix it up, becoming one.

This is Jenny's last resource, her last option and all Jenny is sure of in this moment, is that she's twenty-six and too young - too young for her hair to be turning one or two shades of brown lighter, too young to have expression lines resting on her forehead. Too young for her bairns to grow up without their grandparents around, and definitely too young to lose all of her brothers all at once.

 _Too young to lose her first_ and _only sister._

If she weren't so exhausted, she would've noticed the lad sooner. In what it feels forever ago, she found Claire sitting in the exact same position as Fergus - the same lost expression, thoughts scattered all over the place. Waiting for something, _anythin_ g, as small as it was. If Jenny hadn't known Jamie from the day he was born, hadn't known Fergus was a lad they picked up from the streets of Paris, she would never have guessed the lad wasn't theirs.

Her legs are weak in the knees and part of Jenny is tempted to sit down with the bairn and simply wait for _something_ as well - for Claire to walk through those gates, as malnourished and dirty as her brother had been when he first arrived, for Jamie to miraculously get up from his soon to be deathbed and take her in his arms, whispering some nonsense about everything being fine. But then again, a long time ago, she learned that waiting doesn't change anything - be it for better or for worse. Actions, though, are a whole different matter and unfortunately, there isn't anything else she can do.

And even knowing all this, Jenny sits down anyways - the same lost expression, thoughts scattered all over the place.

"She isna comin' back, ye ken," She takes his wee hand in hers - her tone sounding as gentle and as comforting she can muster, _Jenny_ herself tries to be gentle, using the motherly affection Fergus had never known before Claire. It's hard to believe sometimes, but the lad still is eleven, and he might be losing the only people he's ever known as parents in the same week. Might be the only one that understands exactly what she is feeling, bit by bit, "Spent weeks waitin' foer Jamie once, an' he ne'er did."

"Why don't ye come inside and wash up foer supper?" A pause and then, "Ye might start feelin' a wee bit better after ye've somethin' to warm up yer belly."

" _Oui_ ," She hears Fergus sigh quietly and watches him to get back on his feet, some reluctance from his part as Jenny follows his moves. There's the need to stay there as long as it takes, waiting for Milady when she _does_ turn up, maybe even tend her if it comes down to it - the same way she had done to him when he needed it most. But Fergus does know better than going against Jenny Murray's orders.

He _can_ try tomorrow again.

At that moment, Jenny allows herself to wrap her arms around the lad, pulling him in as close as she can manage - seeking comfort, comforting him, whatever either of them wants to call it or need. It eases their minds and keeps most of the ghosts at bay and finally, Jenny learns she tried her best. Finally, she learns she'll eventually be alright if the Lord decides to take Jamie away from her, too.

But first, Jenny allows herself to check on him. Just to be sure Jamie will be there when she wakes up.

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, I want to thank Femke for being my beta and assuring me this is good enough. She isn't even interested in Outlander fandom and tried her best to keep me sane. Thanks a lot hon, you rock! 3**

 **And second, I was surprised to see there were little to no fics of Jenny and/or Fergus talking about or mourning over Claire. In Claire, Jenny saw the first and only sister she's ever had and Fergus saw the mother he never head - before Jenny, of course, since I'm guessing that eventually she became a mother figure of sorts for him and since I've been wanting to write something for Outlander for weeks, this small piece will have to do.**

 **It's the first time I write for this fandom, too, so criticism is always appreciated as long as it's constructive. Reviews also make my day!**

 **Thanks for taking your time to read this! See you soon!**


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